


Bergatrollets Frieri

by Lagonic



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Gen, based on folklore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-02-12
Packaged: 2017-11-29 00:57:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lagonic/pseuds/Lagonic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Low-fantasy one-shot based on a Swedish ballad of the same name. (Also sometimes called 'Herr Mannelig.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bergatrollets Frieri

It was a snowy evening, too snowy to keep going, even with the Prince's sleigh and special horses. One of the pages had gone ahead and then returned, with news of an inn. The Knight- Dave- could not wait to be there, his armor was heavy and the wool and leather padding under it was soaking wet and cold. All he wanted was to relax by a fire and be done with this infernal journey.   
It wasn't that much farther to the inn, maybe twenty minutes, though they were the longest twenty minutes of the Knight's life. Finally, the royal party had made it, and nothing could have been more welcoming than the dim light and the large fire, nor roaring but steady at least. For the most part, the patrons ignored the royal party, save a single young woman in the corner, who raised her head to regard them. Dave was curious about the box she was hunched over, but there was an innkeeper to deal with first. Unwilling to deal with the 'vile peasantry,' the Prince needed to be escorted up to his rooms, where he would dine privately. Once he was safely ensconced in his rooms, the Knight could go downstairs. He doffed his helmet and could then pull down the hood that (supposedly) kept his head warm, and did keep his helmet from pinching too much. With his hood off now, Dave could tell what it was now that the young woman was hunched over- a hurdy-gurdy. The gentle droning gave it away. Where had she gotten it? This town seemed too poor to have something so fine. Best to pay it no mind, Dave though as he settled at a nearby table with a tankard of ale. As she played, he let his mind wander, and dimly, he recognized what it was she was playing. A folk song, a ballad, how did it go? Ah yes, a story of a foul creature proposing marriage to a knight. Funny sometimes, how life imitates art, and that the maid should be playing that song, given his experience earlier that day. 

As he rode, he'd encountered another young woman, blonde of hair and startlingly blue of eye. Her smile had been as cold as the ice around them, up in the mountains. She'd assured him that she was not lost, the mountains were her home she'd said. She laughed and called to him 'Sir Knight, oh Sir Knight, won't you marry me?' The Prince had scoffed and sent her away, calling her the spawn of the Devil. The Prince's Heir had joked that she hadn't seemed so bad, but privately, Dave had thought that there was something off about the woman, something predatory in her smile. He didn't trust her, and he didn't trust that they'd seen her twice more where she asked him the same question, each time promising great things. Twelve steeds, twelve mills with stones of brass and silver, a fine sword and a fine shirt never pierced by needle or thread. All that she promised, the Prince rejected, and the Heir joked about, mentioning fine dresses and pretty baubles in return. An hour after she'd been rejected for the last time, the skies turned dark and the snow started falling. That was when they'd had to find shelter, leaving him here at the inn.   
"Hey, girl. I'll give you a silver to sing me that song."  
"As my Lord wishes," she said, quiet voice sounding nearly hollow.   
"Bittida en morgon innan solen upprann  
Innan foglarna bo:jade sjunga  
Bergatrollet fiade til fager ungersven  
Hon hade en falskeliger tunga...

Early one morning, before the sun did rise  
And the birds sang their sweet song  
A mountain troll proposed to the fair squire,  
She had a false, deceitful tongue.

Herr Mannelig, Herr Mannelig, won't you marry me?  
For all that I'll gladly give you  
You may only answer yes or no  
Will you do so or no?"

As the maid sang, Dave realized that the words of the ballad matched those of the woman with the blue eyes. Twelve great steeds who had never been saddled or given a bit? Twelve mills between hither and thither with stones of brass and wheels of silver? A gilded sword that will give him victory in battle? The Knight frowned when she'd gotten to the second-to- last verse, and he grabbed her, the hurdy-gurdy falling to her feet with a clatter.   
"Speak, how do you know of this?" It was a folk song, of course. Nothing to it. It should have ended. But the maid looked up at him with wide eyes, and he was struck by the color, a brown so rich it could have been red, and by how sad they were. She paid him no heed, and continued to sing.  
"Had I gotten that handsome squire  
From my torment I would now be free.

Sir Mannelig, Sir Mannelig, won't you marry me?  
For all that I'll gladly give you,  
You may answer only yes or no.   
Will you do so or no?"

Without the accompaniment of the instrument, the maid's voice sounded small and plaintive. It was almost as if she knew the pain of the mountain troll, and it was in that moment, that the Knight realized the dilemma, realized the reason for the sadness he'd felt in the inn, for all it should have been warm and cheerful. That was the difference between the two women- the one with blue eyes did have a false and deceitful tongue. This one made it clear what she was in song, and someone who listened might know what to do. With that realization, his heart went out to her, and he knew what he needed to do.   
"You got one thing wrong. The name's Strider, not Mannelig," he said as he dropped to one knee to retrieve her hurdy-gurdy.   
"I cannot promise you fine steeds and beautiful swords," she responded, voice still soft.   
"It's enough to know that you're free." He pushed the instrument into her hands. "This is yours."  
She offered him a smile and took the thing from him. "Well then. Sir Strider, won't you marry me? For all I'll gladly give you, you may answer only yes or no. Will you do so or no?"  
"I will."

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in maybe an hour after a serious shock of inspiration. I was trying to explain to a floormate the plot of the ballad 'Herr Mannelig,' and as soon as I mentioned trolls, I had to explain that they weren't the candy corn horned kind (for once.)   
> Then inspiration struck.   
> You can listen to the the song here! (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z2kc570KwUs ) 
> 
> Also hurdy-gurdies are pretty close to music boxes. Perfect for Aradia!


End file.
